


Failure Find Me

by Doctor_Gaster



Series: What Have I Done? [2]
Category: Markiplier and his Egos, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Battle, Blood, Fight Stuff, Gen, How Do I Tag, The other OC's are not important to the story, donut worry, uh....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Gaster/pseuds/Doctor_Gaster
Summary: This is a battle between you and the Author, as told by the POV of the Host.
Series: What Have I Done? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587139
Kudos: 4





	Failure Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little snippet of a humongous document my friends and I are working on (hekking 100+ pages and it's only a script format). We're currently working on converting it to book format, and I'm really excited about it! Anyway, here's this snippet. Enjoy!

Suddenly, a long cord of water whips through the air and loops itself around the Author’s throat, cutting off his words with a wet thunk. The water cord tightens and Violet’s fragile SOUL drops to the metaphorical ground and gets swallowed up by shadows as the Author uses his hands to pry away the living water.

“How dare you kidnap my friend!” A voice blasts through the darkness, tearing holes in the very fabric of space and Reality himself. “You will pay for this!!”

The Author turns towards the source of the angry outburst as Katrina shields Violet with her own body. “Ah,” the Author’s voice is silky smooth, gliding over the ears of all who are listening and turning the very fabric of Time to dust. “(Y/N). I was wondering when you would finally show up.”

“Shut up!” They screech, forming another cord to meet this volatile threat. “Nobody tries to kill my friends and gets away with it!”

The Author simply grinned as they fling the rippling rope of water his way. Then, the very area around the two dueling characters splintered and shattered, sending shards of jagged glass spiraling throughout the battlefield.

(Y/N), the doomed hero of this narrative, looks around in equal parts of fear and wonder as the glass spun past their face, depicting fragments of lost memories, some of which were not their own.

A blaze of red light there, a hint of blue light there.

A flash of eternal darkness, a black so deep it seems to swallow them whole...

Our faithful hero then shakes off her stupor and then focuses all her remaining energy on the battle.

Two warring personalities.

Both vying for the same thing.

Two characters.

Fighting for one thing.

Two people, enemies til’ the end.

Fight each other. With words.

Swords.

They’re the same, both cutting as deep as the other.

(Y/N) forms a long spear of water in their hand.

The Author snatches a pen from his breast pocket.

The two face off in the darkened room, the world around them melting into a formless black battlefield devoid of sound. The silence seemed to swell between the two of them, simultaneously filling and draining the dark space.

Then the Author’s laugh shattered the silence and he began to write words in the air. His pen glided through the air with a blood ren trail behind it, the lines twisting themselves into letters, words, sentences.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. They knew that they mustn’t let the villain of this Timeline write her future, or they will surely be doomed. They let their spear fly, the water slicing through the air before coming to a quivering stop before the Author’s face.

He slowly raised his hand and grasped the spear. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

(Y/N) watches in barely concealed terror as the Author proceeds to snap their spear in half, making the water disappear from this Plane. “W-what? How could you…?”

The Author smirked and pointed his pen at them. “It’s all in the power of the written word.” With that statement, the pen grew into a long sword with black ink dripping off of the long silver blade. “But I believe that the sword is, in fact, mightier than the sword.”

(Y/N) realizes what the Author is going to do a split second before he did it, and ducks right before the cursed sword flies over her head and impales itself in the metaphysical walls of the field. They summon another water whip and let the end sail through the air like a bird of flight and watched in satisfaction as it wrapped around his legs, causing the turned Ego to topple backwards.

The Author growls and holds out his hand, and feels his sword start to form again in his palm.

(Y/N) looks behind them and sees the blade start to disintegrate, and they know that if the Author gets his weapon back, it will spell the end of this mighty battle. They pull at the torrent of water within them and summon a multitude of water daggers that harden with a cracking sound into sharp prices of ice.

The Author’s eyes widenen slightly, and if you look closely, you can see a trickle of fear betray his true feelings. But then, a mask drops down and you can see his resolve harden.

A beat of silence.

Two.

Then (Y/N) attacks with a ferocity rivaling the force of a hurricane. The daggers rush towards his body, and the silence is broken yet again by the whooshing of air.

The Author rolls, feeling the impact of the weapons hit the floor next to him. He grins, and feels the presence of his sword in his hand, giving him unlimited power and might. He wills it to stretch, and it turns into a long javelin. He sweeps it towards (Y/N)’s feet, and they fall onto the floor. This time it is bent to the will and whim of the Author, and it turns into a slab of concrete as she plummets to her doom.

The loyal companion sees the edges of their vision go black as a burst of pain creates a mini explosion in their head. They blearily look up as the blurry figure of the Author looms over their vulnerable body. A faint ringing noise fills their ears, piercing through the thick cotton inside their brain. They allow themself to hope for one mere second.

Hope. A mistake all of us have made.

They makes a small choking sound as the Author seizes the front of their [insert clothing item here] and lifts them from where they lay.

“You thought you could best me?” The Author laughs. “You should go back to Dreaming.”

“Y-you…” (Y/N) tries to comprehend the situation, but their shell-shocked mind still hasn’t shaken off its stupor. “I-I…”

The Author manipulated the Void again, causing a slab of concrete to appear behind (Y/N) once more. He grins maniacally, the smirk seemingly splitting his face in two as he slams them against it.

(Y/N) gasps in anguish as pain shoots up their spine like wildfire, exploding in their head with a blinding white eruption. They couldn’t focus on anything except for the sensation of white hot needles being driven into their skin. They can feel a wetness and a tingling in the back of their head. 

The Author laughs, the cruelty of his actions no more bothersome to him than if he was writing in actions for a character. And in a way, he was. He viewed his life as just a simple book that he had complete control over the characters and the actions of those characters, he doesn't care about the safety or well being of those characters. 

He takes a moment to manipulate his weapon back into his favorable baseball bat, but as he turns to finish the job, he notices that his victim has managed to escape. He smirks and rests the bat on his shoulder, looking towards the Host’s point of view. “Hiya~”

The Host

**Author's Note:**

> The abrupt cutoff is intentional... The Host quickly slammed his book closed after that >< Anyway, I hope you liked it!


End file.
